My dog Daisy… is just a dog. She doesn’t have a sign on her that she’s a therapy dog. But deep down she is like my therapy dog. She comforts me. When I’m upset I hug her. It’s been proven that pets can help comfort people that are sad or disabled or even both. This proven fact is not cringe worthy to others. It doesn’t get an eyebrow raise. Who would think a dog helping a disabled person would be crazy? I take her to the pet store and people come up and want to pet her. When I take her to the park people smile and say aww. She doesn’t get weird looks. She doesn’t get pointed at and laughed at. I don’t feel weird or uncomfortable or shameful of having her. If you go somewhere and you see someone with a cane and a seeing eye dog or someone in a wheel chair with a therapy dog you wouldn’t point and laugh.
“She’s got a dog!”
“That’s just a dog.”
“Why does she have a dog?”
“Mom… mom she’s got a dog.”
“Oh my god that’s a dog. You’re just gonna go around with your dog?”
But a therapy doll… is not that well known in society. It is understandably seen as odd/unusual. To have a doll as therapy you need a thick skin. That of which I don’t. I never have. Chalk it up to the fact that my brother was a monster and physically and emotionally abused me when I was a child for many years. I was also bullied in school pretty much constantly. I am unable to just laugh off things that I feel are insults or things I take to heart. Because deep down I know it hurts. The therapy doll is a mask. A bandaid for not having a child of my own. But underneath the bandaid there is a raw open wound, that I try so incredibly hard to hide. My dolls are a way to fill the void of reality. The truth that I will never be a mother to a child. I will never have the strength to care for a real child. I can’t even handle babysitting.
Sure I could try to have my own biological child by risking my life and my unborn babies life by getting pregnant and try desperately to carry my baby to term with 24% lung function. Selfishly knowing that even with bed rest the last trimester that there’s a pretty good chance either I would die during childbirth or my child would die. I mean what does pregnancy do? It pushes on the organs. I can’t imagine having an even worse lung function than I do now due to a baby pressing on my organs.
Sure I could try adoption, if I’m lucky enough to pass the home inspection/observation from the adoption agency. Yes it is a fact that those that are chronically ill have a far harder time trying to convince the adoption agency that they are capable of raising a child. The adoption agency’s job is seeing how you live your day to day life. My odds would be very much against me if I struggle to do a simple task like wash a few dishes or put a few clothes away and then need to sit down the rest of the day due to me being out of breath. How could I convince an agency that I’m fully capable of 24/7 caring for a child when I can hardly take care of myself most of the time. And a chronic illness never goes away. It’s not like I could tell the adoption agency that I’ll get better.
Let’s say I passed adoption. Alright so I got a real child. Kids like to run right? Kids like to get into stuff? Kids like to explore? Great guess what I can’t do. I can’t run. I can jog for a few minutes but then I’m completely exhausted/out of breath and I have to rest. I’m not lazy. I literally can’t take a deep breath after I try to jog for a few minutes. My chest will be heaving in and out and I will have a literal asthma attack. I will get dizzy and need to sit down immediately. Let’s say my kid starts running around the house. Maybe the kid is holding something they shouldn’t and I can’t keep up with them. Add in lack of sleep due to the kid not sleeping the whole night the child could get hurt due to my lack of strength. That kid would not be able to survive. Get that kid outside and that’s it. If it takes off running I wouldn’t have the strength to get the child. I mean I get it. when you have a child you become ‘super woman’ and do things you didn’t think you were capable of doing to care for your child. No amount of wishful thinking is going to guarantee that my lungs especially as I get older would be capable of caring for a child on my own.
And this is just my lung disease… I also get stomach issues regularly. I also get headaches regularly due to my brain not getting enough oxygen. I also struggle with depression. Days where I really feel numb and don’t care what happens to me. If you think that that’s a good environment for a child then you don’t get it.
Let’s go back to the doll. I’m sorry… but being told, “Mom she’s got a doll.” “That’s just a doll.” “Oh dear god I knew that wasn’t a real kid.” “I knew that that was just a doll.” “I knew it that it was fake.” “That looks so fake.” “it’s just a doll.” “you’re just gonna carry your doll around.”
If in that instant it doesn’t take me back to 6th through 11th grade when I was teased in school. I mean I know they're just stating the obvious but a 35 year old isn't supposed to have a doll. They're saying these things in a tone like, 'That's weird.' If it doesn't take me back to that it will take me back to being at home with my older brother who would tease me, it takes me to the fact…. That yes she’s just a chunk of plastic and I’ll never be a mom. It’s obvious that she’s not real and this I know but I don’t like being reminded of it. It’s getting to the point that it’s becoming too painful to smile back and say, “I know.” To me I’m a doll mom. I feel a sense of needing to protect her. I try to feel a sense of completion in my life and pride when I hold her. Knowing that I’m doing what’s best for me and my situation. My husband on a regular basis tells me, “she’s just a doll.” Or he’ll roll his eyes or sigh in frustration/annoyance I’m trying but consistently failing at combating this feeling of shame.
If I was single and I didn’t take my doll kids out in public things would be different. I would be safe at home with my doll kids and I wouldn’t have to constantly remind people or convince people to stop saying that to me. Being told, “It’s just a doll.”, yes it’s stating the obvious but it reminds me that I’m just being childish without a real human child.
If I had a real kid in someway to care for, either a friends kid, a neighbors kid, a niece or nephew. But all of my husbands nieces/nephew have grown up and are teens now. I rarely see them anymore. I don’t see any other nieces/nephews in any other sides of my family. Even if I wanted to help care for a child again I’ll remind you, I can’t. If a real kid wanted carried, due to my rib cage susceptible to arthritis which I’ve had before and it hurts a lot due to my lifetime of coughing fits, I wouldn’t be able to carry the kid in my arms. I couldn’t hold a real child against the front of my body for longer than a few moments due to the fact that my lungs already feel like a weight is on them daily.
“That looks fake.” I get told.
“Yes lady I know. I don’t have kids..this is all I got. I’ve wanted to be a mom since I was a kid and it kills me inside that this is fake plastic is all I got and I have to subject you to this cringe worthy scene. I’m sorry what I’m doing to cope with never being able to be a real mother makes you feel so uncomfortable.”
Being told it’s fake… reminds me that yes… I’ll never have a baby in my womb. My belly will never grow. I’ll never be able to breastfeed. I’ll never be able to go to lamase class. I never have and never will have even a chance to feel what any of that is like. There’s many people in this world that don’t want kids. Granted many of them are single women. But add in the fact that I’m married. Been married for 12 years. What’s the natural next step after marriage?
I talk to Sophia as if she was real. I imagine she has the wonderment and innocent joy at the world around her. I smile in delight when I show her things out in public because in my heart I know… I’m treating her the way that I would if I was a true mom. When I was a kid I was in and out of the children’s hospital a lot. Spending months at a time in the NICU/PICU. I didn’t really get to go out much because I was so sick. My parents were scared. They’ve seen me on deaths door quite often until I was 3 years old. I want to give Sophia the life that I didn’t have. I want to show her the world. In some ways maybe this is part of me trying to heal my childhood.
Being told she’s fake or being laughed at feels like an insult to my child. Being around other women that can easily convince others that their doll child is real and then people look at mine and mine just gets a laugh and like “Oh I know that’s not real. That doesn’t look real at all.” It’s like mine doesn’t count. It hurts that there’s things I can’t really do with Sophia. I can’t really take her to a mommy and me gymnastics class. I can’t really take her to story time at the library. I can’t teach her how to swim. I’m trying to keep a brave smiling face when I’m out with Sophia despite my husbands frustration with it. Deep down I know my husband isn’t really happy that I have these dolls. So I’m trying to stand my ground against his wishes because I know I need this and I’m trying to not break down in front of people that say, “Oh that’s fake.” I don’t mind hearing, “She’s Fake.” Or “She’s just a doll.” Once or twice but to hear it multiple times throughout the day really gets wearing on the soul when I already struggle with self esteem issues and depression issues. I return back to square one of being childless.
So if you see me with Sophia or any of my dolls, even if you’re a friend of mine, please, I beg of you don’t tell me, “It looks fake.” “it doesn’t look real.” “it wouldn’t pass off as a real baby.” “It looks fake anyway.” I know you’re just stating the facts compared to other dolls or real humans but in my heart, which is trying so hard to heal she’s real. She’s my child. She’s not a toy. It’s not pretend. This isn’t a hobby. I’m not a collector. This is literally filling an empty void in my life.